


Not So Bad After All

by keycat



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: M/M, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-14
Updated: 2017-01-14
Packaged: 2018-09-17 12:41:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9324047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keycat/pseuds/keycat
Summary: AU in which Maxson's childhood is very different, giving him a new outlook on synths as a whole.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I kinda threw a couple canon things out the window. One, Maxson was born in the Commonwealth to nameless parents, and is just an orphan the Brotherhood took in. Two, Maxson is about six inches or so shorter than Danse. And three, the Brotherhood set up an outpost at the Boston Airport years prior (but the Prydwen still didn't show up until the sole survivor arrives on the scene). There could be more. Who really knows. Obviously not me. >>
> 
> I'm not super familiar with military rank or chain of command or anything; this is literally just what I've picked up of the Brotherhood's inner workings from playing the game. It's probably a mess, just don't take it that seriously lol

Nick Valentine never slept. He didn’t have to. Not that he didn’t envy watching Ellie sleep quietly in her bunk some nights, or come across her sleeping with her face still propped up in her hands at her desk and sigh at the memory of all the human things he’d involuntarily given up. Nights like these, nights like tonight, he would gently scoop her up and carry her to her bunk. She would stir sleepily in her arms and chastise him in soft murmurs, remind him that he was far too old to be carrying her to bed, and he would chuckle quietly and tell her not to worry, that he would see to it his last act on earth would be to carry her to bed.

Tonight, though, was different.

“Hm? Nick, where have you been?” Ellie asked, her voice heavy and sluggish with sleep. Her eyes were still closed, but she still turned her head in his direction. “I’ve had people out searching everywhere for you.”

“Sorry, I’ve been out, working a case. You weren’t waiting up for me, were you?” Nick carefully picked his way through the mess he and Ellie swore every day they would clean, his thin arms exerting more strength than anyone ever would have guessed at just a glance.

“I have. It’s important.” She put an arm around his neck and rested her head on his chest. “One of the Brotherhood of Steel’s...I’m not sure what he is--”

“Now, Ellie,” Nick said, depositing her on her bunk and sitting down next to her. “The Brotherhood doesn’t want me anywhere near them, you know that. They’ve got more than enough firepower to take care of their own, anyway.” He drew her covers up over her and ran his good hand, the one that hadn’t ripped and faded to a wiry, mechanical skeleton, across her hair. “I can’t believe you’d stay up all night just for the Brotherhood.”

“It’s not like that,” Ellie said, burrowing deeply into her blankets. She took a deep breath, and sighed contently. “He’s just a little boy. He’s stuck in one of the old subway tunnels. I...forget which one, but I wrote it down, it’s on the desk. There’s been some kind of cave-in, or something, and none of them can get through without making it worse.” Ellie’s screwed up into a scowl, worry creasing her brow. “They’ve said they’re going to have to cut their losses. They’re gonna let him die down there, Nick.”

Nick frowned. It wasn’t like the Brotherhood to abandon one of their own like that. “Is there anything else I should know?” Maybe the kid was a ghoul, or he’d killed someone. He couldn’t fathom a reason that the Brotherhood would just up and leave someone to die like that, especially a kid.

“I think he’s taking on rads. Not a lot, but enough that you probably shouldn’t dawdle.”

His frown deepened.  _ Would have been nice to know that first. _ “I’m heading out, then. You get some sleep, girl. I’ll be back when I’ve returned the kid to those belligerent tin cans.” He gave her a quick peck on the forehead, and she smiled at the feel of his smooth, plastic lips.

“Stay safe,” Ellie said, wrapping her arms around her pillow and rolling over.

“Always do,” Nick said, donning his fedora and stepping back out into the night.

 

***

 

“College Square Station, that’s the one,” Nick muttered, squinting in the dim light at the scrap of paper Ellie had left him. “But I don’t see a cave-in anywhere...maybe the Brotherhood came back for him?” He glanced back down at the paper, then crumpled it and tossed it aside.

He’d have killed for a light.  _ Probably would have helped to know the power’d failed down here, too,  _ he thought with a twinge of bitterness, taking a cigarette from his coat and lighting it. It did him no good, the nicotine did nothing for him, but the old Nick had a habit of lighting up whenever he was irritated. A habit that stuck with the old synth as well.

Nick took a long drag and exhaled, letting the stale smoke ring around him, drifting lazily towards…

_ That’s strange,  _ Nick thought, letting out another puff of smoke. There seemed to be a draft.  _ Underground? _

“Kid?” he called out tentatively. He felt silly, but it suddenly occurred to him that he hadn’t been given a name.

The feeling quickly evaporated when he was immediately rewarded with a response, barely audible, from further down the tunnel. “Is someone there?”

“I’m coming,” Nick replied, grinding out his cigarette and breaking into a sprint towards the voice.

“Please hurry,” the voice said, louder now. Nick guessed from the pitch that the kid couldn’t be all that old, maybe fourteen, possibly even fifteen, not that anyone would know that. Nobody kept track of that stuff anymore.

“Where are you? Give me a landmark, something I can work with,” Nick said loudly, stopping and spinning on his heel halfway down the tunnel. Surely he had to be close…?

“I don’t know. There’s an old...train, I think it’s called? A big tube with seats and rails in it? I’m underneath it! And I think I’m taking on rads!”

Nick knew that if he still had blood, he would have gone pale. Paler than he already was. The kid was  _ under _ a subway car? This was something the Brotherhood should be doing, for sure. There was no way he could lift a subway car. “What happened?” he called, moving towards the nearest car. It was pinned against the wall by enormous pile of rocks and debris piled on one end of it, and he was fairly certain he could see the night sky near the top of the mound.

“I don’t know! One minute I was standing outside--the next minute, I was underground!”

_ Okay. A sinkhole. I can work with that. Probably.  _ “Alright, keep talking, then, so I can follow your voice. Tell me about yourself. What’s your name?” Nick said, climbing onto the pile of dirt, pushing aside the loose stuff and smaller pieces of crumbled pavement, trying to make his way to the wall.

“Um...my name is Arthur Maxson, and...I’m a Brotherhood squire...I’m an orphan, and...the Brotherhood took me in when I was young…”

“I think I see you! Wave your arm! Is that you?” Nick said, digging furiously now.

Maxson waved his one free arm. The other was pinned under the debris, and his legs seemed to be wedged under the wheels of the car. “I see you! I’m--” his voice dropped, and his face twisted into a look of disgust. “You’re a  _ synth _ ?”

“One of a kind, the only sentient gen II in the Commonwealth,” Nick said, only slowing his digging to tip his hat.

Maxson shook his head. “No, no, I don’t need your help. Just leave. Someone else will come for me.”

“I’m afraid that’s not the case,” Nick said, finally making a path large enough that he could shimmy through between the wall and the subway car. “I’m the only one that’s coming for you, son.”

“Then I’ll die down here,” Maxson said defiantly, throwing his head back proudly.

_ Jeez. They sure indoctrine them early, don’t they? _ Nick thought, bemused. “Sorry, I can’t let that happen.”

“You’re gonna have to. I won’t let you touch me, you disgusting synth.”

“You really want to die over this? You want to die, alone, irradiated, hungry, in a hole, all because you’re too proud to take help from a synth?” Nick rolled back onto his haunches, tempted to light up another cigarette.

“It has nothing to do with pride,” Maxson sneered. “It’s principle. What precedence does that set?”

“No precedence at all,” Nick said. “Didn’t you hear me? I’m the only one of my kind. None others like me.”

“I don’t deal in loopholes,  _ synth,”  _ Maxson said, curling his lip as he said it.

_ To hell with it. _ Nick took another cigarette from his jacket and lit it. “I’m just trying to help  _ you  _ out, here. Who taught you all synths were the enemy, anyway?”

“Don’t play dumb with me. You know full well the Brotherhood taught me everything I know.”

“Oh, the Brotherhood?” Nick waved his cigarette through the air, as though to illustrate his point. “The same Brotherhood that chose to let you die down here, alone, because it would be too much effort to reach you?”

“It’s not that,” Maxson said, but his voice cracked slightly, and Nick knew he had him. “They...couldn’t get down here. Not without making it worse.”

“Obviously that’s not the case, is it?”

“It’s  _ different _ ! You’re not wearing  _ power armor _ !”

The lit end of Nick’s cigarette illuminated his fiendish smile in a faint reddish glow. “They can’t take it off?”

“Coming down here  _ without  _ power armor could have gotten someone killed.” Maxson was beginning to show his agitation, seemingly unaware that he was using his free arm to slough the loose dirt from his opposite side. “So what if  _ you  _ got in here without it, and didn’t die, it still  _ could  _ have happened.”

“And those are the people you think are fit to decide who’s right and who’s wrong? People who would just leave you down here to die because there was a slight possibility that they  _ might  _ have gotten hurt?”

Maxson was digging at an alarming rate now. “They’re just following Elder Lyons’ orders! Elder Lyons’ word is law!”

“Sounds to me like you need a new elder,” Nick said, flicking his cigarette away. “So, are you gonna let me help you, or am I gonna have to help you out  _ and  _ fight you off?”

Maxson pulled on his leg, still trapped under debris and pinned between the wheel and the tracks underneath it. He whimpered softly, it was beginning to really hurt. His lower lip trembled slightly, but he ran the back of his hand across his face and sighed angrily. “Fine. Get me out. But only because I want to see those knights who left me punished for this.”

 

Nick raised an eyebrow, or at least, what would have been an eyebrow if he had any, but said nothing. Instead, he crawled on all fours to Maxson’s side and began carefully picking up the larger pieces of asphalt that held the boy in place and tossing them aside. It soon became apparent want the problem was--a seemingly perfectly shaped rock had wedged itself tightly between the wheel and the floor, barricading his leg in. 

“It’s stuck,” Maxson said, throwing all his weight on it.

“Wait,” Nick said, realization dawning on him.  _ That rock is the only thing keeping that car from coming down on him. _

“What’s wrong?” Maxson asked, panic creeping into his voice.

“Nothing,” Nick said absently, looking around for something...anything…

“Stay here,” he said, retreating the way he came. “And for God’s sake, don’t keep digging,” he called over his shoulder. He wriggled out of the pile of debris and looked around. How the hell was he supposed to get an entire  _ subway car  _ off this kid? He was back at square one, and he hadn’t had a plan then, either. He certainly wasn’t strong enough to leverage the thing off him, even if he had a pipe or rebar bundle heavy enough. Did subways have jacks on them?  _ No, what would they have needed them for? _

“What’s going on?” Maxson said. “You aren’t leaving me, are you?”

“Nope, I’m right here, don’t worry,” Nick said, his search turning frantic. He spotted an old luggage handcart, and he suddenly had an idea. “I’m gonna be a minute, just hang on,” he cried, running back to the platform.

The handcart had a wobbly wheel, Nick noted with a pang of nostalgia, but otherwise seemed to be in perfect working condition. He backed it up to the Nuka Cola vending machine against the wall, wondering the whole time if this was going to work.

_ Of course it’s gonna work, _ he thought, going around behind the vending machine. He squeezed between it and the wall and shoved, tipping the whole thing over and sending it crashing down onto the cart in a cacophony of shattering glass.

“What was that?”

“Don’t worry about it. You like Nuka Cola?”

Maxson didn’t answer.

Grunting under the weight of the vending machine--the handcarts wheels were just a little rustier than Nick had originally believed--he pushed the whole thing to the edge of the platform, first kicking the vending machine over the side, stopping to take a breather, and then rolling the handcart over with it.

“What the hell is going on?!” Maxson demanded.

“I’m...working...on a plan...just...give me a minute!” Nick snapped, righting the handcart and throwing his entire weight against the vending machine to topple it back onto the cart.

“It  _ sounds  _ like you’re just making a mess,” Maxson said petulantly, and Nick fleetingly considered leaving the brat. He rolled his eyes; he couldn’t do that and he knew it, so he gritted his teeth and wheeled the cart to the far end of the subway car.

The car was tipped up quite a ways.  _ Thank God _ , Nick thought, pushing and dragging the cart over the uneven terrain the last few feet until it was positioned just how he wanted it. He summed up the last of his strength and rolled the vending machine off the cart, shoving it as far back under the car as he could. He heaved a sigh and wiped a hand over his brow wearily. Another human trait he no longer possessed; he didn’t sweat, but the muscle memory remained.

“You still alive in there?” Nick said, crawling back through the debris pile and back to Maxson’s side.

“What were you doing?”

“I put a Nuka Cola machine under the front end of the car,” Nick said, surprised at just how simple it sounded when he put it into words. “When that rock moves, the car’s gonna drop. That machine won’t hold it up forever, but it should be long enough to get your leg out without pinching it off. Understand?”

“How do you expect to move the rock?”

“Well, this is gonna hurt,” Nick said, producing a long piece of rebar that he’d found on his way back through the pile. “There’s gonna be some leverage on your leg. I don’t think it’ll break, but it might. But you can fix a broken leg. Can’t fix one that’s come off. You ready?”

Maxson looked down at his trapped legs, then back to Nick. “I think so.”

“When that rock moves, you get out as quickly as possible, understand? Get close to me and stay by my side, if this car brings down more of the ceiling, I need to be able to cover you, you got that?”

Maxson nodded, his expression stony.

Nick stepped over Maxson and positioned the bar between his leg and the rock. “Get ready,” he said. “On my count. One. Two. Three.”

Maxson cried out as Nick threw his entire weight onto the bar, inching the rock out from under the wheel. The car let out a sudden, deafening screech as it twisted away from the wall. Maxson yanked his legs from under the wheel and scurried to Nick’s side, pressing himself against the wall in terror. The car dropped onto the Nuka Cola machine--which crumpled almost in an instant--and seemed to bounce, almost in slow motion, tipping away from them.

“Go!” Nick roared, herding Maxson further into the tunnel, away from the car, which was now almost gracefully completing its arc as it rolled onto its side. Maxson slowed, but Nick bundled the boy up into his arms and kept running.

Maxson peered over Nick’s shoulder and saw the reason the synth hadn’t stopped--the sinkhole hadn’t been finished. More dirt and asphalt were pouring in at a terrifying rate.

“Is the whole tunnel going to collapse?!” Maxson’s eyes were huge.

“I don’t know,” Nick said, breathless. He couldn’t outrun an entire tunnel collapse. He wasn’t even sure he could run another ten feet. His system was overheating. He was never meant to push it this hard.

He stumbled and went down, and Maxson went sprawling.

“Go! Just go!” Nick said, struggling to get back up. Maxson hesitated; the next platform was maybe a hundred yards away, and the tunnel was coming down fast. He made his decision in an instant.

“I said  _ go _ !” Nick snapped, but Maxson ignored him, throwing Nick’s arm across his back and hurrying him along.

“You can make it,” Maxson said. “You’re gonna make it!” He found himself dragging Nick’s feet once or twice, and when they got to the platform, he had to shove the old synth up over the edge, but by the time they got to the steps to the surface, Nick was on his own again, keeping pace with Maxson.

They both crashed onto the landing in a heap, both sucking down huge lungfuls of air, though it did nothing for Nick.

“How much of the tunnel came down?” Maxson asked, lying flat on his back and staring straight up at the dark ceiling of the MTA station.

“Not as much as we probably thought,” Nick said, letting out a tiny snort of laughter and lighting up another cigarette. “I’d have probably been alright if you’d left me. Thanks for coming back for me, though. You’re a good kid, no matter what the Brotherhood says about you.”

Maxson’s mouth fell into a hard line. “Don’t talk about the Brotherhood like that.”

“And here I thought we’d reached an agreement. So where can I drop you off to?”

“Don’t worry about it. I can find my way home on my own.” Maxson drew himself up into a sitting position. “There’s always a vertibird nearby. I can find one, no problem.” He stood up and rubbed his leg. “I, uh...didn’t catch your name.”

“Nick Valentine,” Nick said. “Not gonna sic the Brotherhood on me, now, are you?”

Maxson looked sheepish and scrubbed the back of his head with his hand. “Nah, I just...it’s nothing. Thanks for coming after me.”

“Not a problem,” Nick said, standing up and flexing his servos. He was gonna need some serious maintenance when he got back to the agency, that was for sure. “Try not to fall into any more sinkholes.”

Maxson allowed himself a stiff laugh. “Yeah, I’ll try.” He was feeling oddly light. After-effects of the adrenaline, he supposed. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”

Nick looked surprised, but not altogether displeased. “Well, I can’t say I’d be loathe to see you in Diamond City. Stop by if you ever get the chance.”

 

I never saw Nick Valentine again.

 

***

 

The knights who had abandoned me had all been punished accordingly, though it had left me in somewhat low regards among them. They’d been publicly flogged in the middle of the airport, and of course we’d all had to watch, to remind us all what happens when you go against protocol.

“Couldn’t just squirm out of there and leave it at that, could you?” the knights had berated me. “Just had to go to Paladin Troy and cry about it, huh?”

“You left me to die,” I sputtered. As if I wasn’t allowed to be furious. “You could have helped but you chose not to risk your own hides!”

“We did what Lyons has ordered time and time again,” Knight Sinclair said, poking me hard in the chest with his enormous armored finger. I stumbled back, my hands flying to what was definitely going to be a bruise later.

“And if you got a problem with Elder Lyons, then you got a problem with us, buddy.” Knight Cody stepped forward and gave me a shove, sending me skittering backwards onto my rear. My teeth clattered hard, and I could feel blood seeping where I bit my tongue. The taste of it sent a hot bolt of anger through me, and I brushed my palms against the front of my jumpsuit, dislodging the pebbles that had embedded themselves there, and readied to throw myself at Knight Sinclair.

That was when I met Knight Danse.

“What the hell’s going on over here?” The familiar heavy footfalls of power armor accompanied him as he stomped around the side of the airport where the knights had cornered me.

“Fuck off, Danse, this doesn’t concern you,” Knight Willis said, flicking the chestplate of Danse’s armor, earning laughter from the other two, sending another pang of outrage through me.

Danse slapped Willis’s arm away with a loud clang, and he stepped closer. “If you’re assaulting him--” he jabbed a finger at me. “--then that’s my business. You three were punished accordingly for abandoning a team member. He was left in  _ your  _ care!”

“He doesn’t have to be such a pussbasket about it,” Sinclair said, pushing Willis out of the way and ramming his chest against Danse’s, who stumbled back a few steps, nearly tripping. He laughed and ran a hand over his short, greasy mohawk. “Come on, you barely know how to use your power armor. Now step off, before you get your ass kicked.”

“Dude, that little prick got us flogged,” Cody snapped.

“If you didn’t want to be punished, you should have kept a closer eye on him,” Danse said, his voice hard, authoritative. He looked down and noticed me staring at him, and he pointed at me. “And  _ you _ . Back to your barracks. Now.”

“Where the hell do you get off thinking you have any right to order any of us around?” I heard Willis ask as I nodded and did as I was told. I brushed myself off, quickly saluted Danse, and ran off, skidding to a stop around the side of the building as soon as I was out of the knights’ line of sight. My heart was hammering in my chest, and I put a hand to it, trying to catch my breath. It was dizzying, and I almost had to sit down.

_ Holy shit. _

Who  _ was  _ that guy? I’d never known anyone in the Brotherhood to be so...selfless. So dedicated to the cause. I could tell just from the way he had looked at me, at the other knights, that he didn’t tolerate going against protocol for any reason. I peered around the side of the building, hoping to get a better look at him again. The other three knights were pressing in on him, two in front, one behind. He was keeping in tight circles, trying not to let any one of them get him from behind.

“I suggest you get back to your barracks,” Danse was saying. He was tensed, ready to leap, ready to fight any of them. “Unless you want a second flogging.”

“Gonna tell on us, too?” Cody mocked, elbowing Danse hard in the stomach.

“No,” Danse said simply, cracking his knuckles. 

I felt an unfamiliar warmth in my stomach, and I wanted more than anything to see this knight take on the other three. Even just to try. I couldn’t explain the feeling. I wanted him to fight. To get angry.

The other knights all laughed and ‘ooooh’d.

“Alright, then, Danse, you want to tussle?” Sinclair said, and though I couldn’t make it out in the dim light, I could hear in his voice that he was smirking, and he crouched into a fighting stance. “Let’s throw down.”

“Let’s,” Danse said, and there was an ear-splitting crash of metal on metal as Sinclair and Danse charged at each other.

I cowered lower, almost afraid that if I was seen, the fight would come to me, but I couldn’t take my eyes off it, either. Danse had managed to get in one good blow, putting an enormous dent in the shoulder of Sinclair’s right arm, keeping it from rotating fully. Sinclair swore, trying to force the dent out. Danse swung at Sinclair again, but before he could connect, Cody had kicked him in the back of the legs, dropping him to his knees.

“Nice try, asshole,” Sinclair said, taking Danse’s armor by the neck and throwing him to the ground. I gasped, but held perfectly still while Willis stepped forward and put his foot on Danse’s back, holding him down, and Cody started to unscrew his fusion core. It beeped a quick warning, but quickly died as Cody yanked the core and tossed it just out of reach.

“Enjoy the rest of your night,” Sinclair said, giving him a swift kick and retreating to his barracks, I assumed, Willis and Cody in tow.

I couldn’t believe it. They’d just  _ left  _ him. With no fusion core. He couldn’t move his power armor without it. I heard him grunt under the pressure of it, trying to move it, but I suspected him and I both knew it wasn’t going anywhere.

My blood was boiling at this point. They’d just  _ left  _ him! Alone, in the dark, where any radscorpion or mole rat could just walk up and have their way with him. And what was  _ I  _ supposed to do? I took a step around the corner of the building, but I faltered. He’d sent me back to my barracks. If I went to help him, he’d know I ignored a direct order.

But wouldn’t he be pleased, and just look past that, knowing that I could have possibly saved his life? I played through the scenario in my head; rushing to his side and grabbing his fusion core, his stern voice filled with gratitude as I worked the core back into place, and then…

I drew a sharp breath. And  _ then _ what?  _ What  _ was I hoping for? I had no idea. I couldn’t put it to words, but whatever it was, I was entirely certain that Knight Danse wouldn’t be on board with it. I shook my head to clear my thoughts. No, Knight Danse wanted me to go to my barracks. He gave me an order, and he wanted me to follow it. Right? This is what he wanted, right?

I tentatively took a step back, trying to push the sound of Danse groaning against the weight of his armor from my mind. My stomach was tight and I thought I might be sick. What if the other knights came back? They wouldn’t...they wouldn’t kill him, would they?

There were other knights on patrol. Maybe if I got their attention. But how? How was I supposed to do that without letting them know I was out past curfew?

I leaned against the wall, suddenly resigned to what I had to do. I had to go back to my bunk, that was the order I’d been given, and pretend I had no idea what had happened here. I felt sick at the idea; I wanted to help him and it seemed to extend beyond just wanting to make sure he was okay, I wanted him to  _ notice  _ me, to remember me, to see me again and say “hey, I remember you! You saved my life!”

Just thinking the words, hearing them in my head in his strong baritone was enough to almost make me turn and run blindly to his fusion core, completely ignoring all reason, but I stopped myself. I threw my head back against the wall and groaned angrily.

_ Dammit, dammit, dammit! _

The only thing that finally got me to point my feet in the direction of my barracks and march solemnly to my bunk, keeping an eye out for more patrols, was one single thought:

_ If it happened once, it can happen again. _

 

***

 

Three days later I was still furious. At Knight Sinclair and his cronies, at Danse, but mostly at myself.

Danse had been found a few hours later and been reprimanded for shirking in his patrol and for fighting, but what was worse, he wouldn’t give up the names of the knights who had left him there. Even worse still, I would see them slap him on the back and grin and trade rations, as if they hadn’t almost gotten him killed. I couldn’t believe it.

Worst of all, I could have prevented it. I could have just gone over there, gotten his fusion core, and not only would he have not gotten a reprimand, he’d remember me and notice me and point me out to his friends, saying “this is the kid that saved me”, but instead, I’d been too afraid of getting a reprimand myself. And now, nobody was happy. Except those bastard knights.

I stabbed angrily at my brahmin steak, my appetite all but gone. I suddenly wanted nothing to do with my lunch, and I shoved my plate away, storming from the mess hall, my hands shoved deeply in the pockets of my jumpsuit.

As soon as I was out in the still air, I found myself kicking at rocks and the wiry, dark scrub that grew along the edges of the buildings. A radstorm was building across the water, and I knew it would only be a few hours before it swept across the airport, which meant, great, more shots. As if today couldn’t get any worse.

There was a commotion from the door at the mess hall and I glanced up. A group of knights were hustling out the door, being ushered through by Paladin Troy, who was gesturing at the radstorm and then the training yard.

“No radstorm’s keeping my knights from getting their training in today,” Troy snapped, his voice a harsh, robotic buzz, coming through his power armor. “I want to see you all work double-time, just because there’s a radstorm coming doesn’t mean you’re getting the time off!”

My stomach did a flip when I noticed Knight Danse bringing up the rear. I checked to see if anyone had noticed me slip away from the mess hall. Nobody seemed to be around, aside from the knights. It would be the easiest thing in the world to hide in one of the broken down airplanes near the training yard, just to see what they did. I hadn’t ever seen the knights train, I just wanted to see, just once, really. If I knew what they were doing, I could do it by myself when nobody was watching, and in no time, I’d be strong enough to fight Knight Sinclair on my own. Besides, nobody would notice me go missing the one time, surely.

Before I had really made my decision, or at least, before I  _ thought  _ I had, I found myself sneaking around the back side of the mess hall and across the wing of the nearest airplane, through a hole in the side of its monstrous hull, and into its belly.

It was more spacious inside that I’d pictured. There were a few seats scattered here and there, broken suitcases and ruined purses and a few very, very old skeletons that I sidestepped with ease, accidentally treading on one of their arm bones and grinding into a fine dust. I grimaced at it; it happened sometimes but I never  _ liked _ it. It wasn’t a pleasant sound. I kicked aside the brittle thing and searched for a suitable vantage point. The entire left side of the airplane overlooked the training grounds, and I found a pair of seats up against one of the windows that would hide me from anyone casually coming in through the same way I did, just in case anyone had seen me come through and decided to investigate.

I settled in between the two seats and poked my head just high enough to see out the window. It was hard to make out through the grime, but I was easily able to pick Knight Danse out from the others. Already, they were working hard, lined up in three even rows, collectively doing hundreds of pushups every minute. Danse kept up handily, and, not too far to his right, I noted with a flash of irritation, so did Knight Sinclair.

Troy was pacing through the rows, his armor already beginning to reflect a sickly shade of yellow-green. I could feel my hair starting to prickle on my scalp, and I hastily flattened it. If the knights could be out in this weather, so could I.

An order was barked; the knights rolled onto their backs and began to do situps. Sinclair said something and Danse laughed, and I wrinkled my nose. I didn’t understand. I just couldn’t make heads or tails of it. This  _ was  _ the same knight who had taken Danse’s fusion core and left him pinned under his own armor for most of the night, wasn’t it? I squinted to get a better look, but it didn’t really help. I was pretty sure it had to be Sinclair, though, he had that ridiculous mohawk.

After about twenty minutes, Troy yelled for a water break, and the knights got up and relaxed their sore muscles. Danse stretched his arms over his head, then bent and touched his toes, and then sat down on the ground, waiting for Troy to pass out his ration. One of the other knights said something to him; he narrowed his eyes at first in confusion, but a smirk quickly crossed his face, and he laughed, nodded, and the knight went on his way. 

I sat back in the ratty airplane seat, a feeling of hideous longing pooling in my gut. I wanted so much for him to tell me I was doing something right. Anything, really. He was the penultimate Brotherhood soldier, I could already tell, and I wanted his approval more than anything. If he thought I was doing something right, then I had to be. I looked back in time to see him unzipping his dark blue jumpsuit and sliding his arms out of the sleeves, rolling it down and tying the sleeves around his waist. My heart skipped a beat and I felt my jaw drop open. He was so  _ broad.  _ I hadn’t realized it when he was shrouded in his power armor, but now, seeing him standing under baking sun, I could see the hard muscles of his arms, his back, his chest; the payoff of all his training. He ground his knuckles into the palm of his opposite hand, flexing his arms, still completely oblivious that I was watching him, and I ducked back down.

_ What the hell am I doing?! _ I thought wildly, trying to still my rapid breathing.  _ I came out here to watch them train. Just watch them train. Just watch them train, and see how they do it, and then go back to my bunk and never do this again. _

I risked a glance out the window again and saw that they were jogging around the perimeter of the training ground, but Paladin Troy was yelling and gesturing towards the barracks. Before I could follow his gesture and see what he was pointing at, a brilliant green flash filled the sky, and I fell back in terror. The radstorm had creeped up a lot faster than I’d realized. I’d have to continue this another day, I decided, sprinting out of the airplane. No big deal.

 

***

 

I watched the knights train every day for the next month. At first, I’d tried working out in my barracks, but too many people were coming and going, and while nobody ever paid me any mind, I couldn’t risk any of them asking why I was training on my own. I’d be trained when it was time, and it wasn’t time yet, they’d say. I found it was easier to keep time with the knights as best I could on the airplane. I couldn’t do nearly as many pushups as they could, and not nearly as fast as they could, but I could already feel my strength building, and I fantasized about the day when I would be able to keep pace with them. With Danse. I dreamed about walking up to him and casually challenging him to a pushup contest, for him to good-naturedly laugh and tell me that he wasn’t sure that I wanted to do that, but I would insist, and we would drop to the ground, and start on his count, and the look on his face when I was able to do as many as he could, no, when I outpaced him,  _ easily,  _ and even that old codger Elder Lyons would say “Maxson, I’m so impressed”--

My daydreaming was suddenly interrupted by footsteps coming up the wing of the plane. At least two of them. My arms turned to strings and I collapsed to the floor. Why would someone be coming up here?! The only reason anyone would have to be in this airplane is if they knew I was up here. Panicked, I crammed myself in between one of the few remaining rows of seats and drew my knees up to my chin, holding them tightly and hoping that whoever was coming was just a scavenger, or a scribe looking for a missing piece of tech, or--

“Maxson? What the hell are you doing in here?”

I recognized the voice of Harley, one of the two other squires, and my stomach knotted.

“I came up after a radroach,” I lied, prying myself out from between the seats and standing up as straight as I could, seeing that Harley had brought Jackson, the other squire, with her.

Harley looked around, her face incredulous. “There’s no radroaches up here.”

“I got him. It doesn’t concern you anyway, Harley.”

“Paladin Troy wants to know why you’ve been sneaking up here,” Harley said, cocking her hips to one side and crossing her arms. “Said you’ve been doing it for a while.”

I sneered at her. “Then Paladin Troy should ask me, not you.” I tried to push past her, but her and Jackson blocked my exit.

“I know why he’s been coming up here,” Jackson said, his tone mocking, and my ears turned pink. He didn’t know anything. How could he?

“I come up here to train like the knights do, okay?” I said, trying again to shove past them unsuccessfully.

Jackson shook his head. “Nah. He comes up here to watch Knight Danse train.”

I flushed bright red and drew back, ready to barrel into Jackson and tear from the airplane at full speed if I had to. If I could just get out here, I’d never come up again, I bargained with whatever higher power might be listening. “What are you talking about?”

“Have you  _ seen  _ the way you look at that guy? He thinks you’re a total creep, man. You’re always staring at him, making him feel uncomfortable and shit.”

Harley laughed, and it was a cold sound that made the edges of my vision go red.

“That’s not true,” I said, but deep down I was already sure he was right. Of course Knight Danse didn’t want anything to do with me. Obviously. I was half his age, not even a knight, just the orphan squire that nobody paid any attention to.

Jackson flipped his thumb over his shoulder. “Come on, we were just heading down that way, we’re taking some rifles down to the training field. I’m sure you’d like any excuse to get up close and personal with  _ Knight Danse,  _ yeah?”

The rage that was bubbling up inside me boiled over in such a violent outpouring that I could barely control it. One second, I was standing before Jackson, my fists balled tightly, every newly forming muscle in my body tightened, coiled, ready to spring, and the next, I had barrelled into him, ramming my shoulder into his solar plexus with enough force to send us both crashing to the ground.

“What the fuck--!” Jackson cried, the wind thoroughly knocked out of him as he hit the floor. I reeled back and threw a punch square in his jaw, and it clicked shut on impact, but I could feel him clamp down on his tongue. I threw another, hitting him in the side of the head, and it snapped back, like a ragdoll. Harley screamed, and I felt the fury drain from my body as I took in what I’d done. He was out cold, and blood was pouring from his mouth. I turned his head to the side and felt for a pulse, just hoping to keep him from choking to death on his own blood.

“Paladin Troy!” Harley yelled, running from the airplane, and I just sat over Jackson, my my hands steadily going red from the outpouring of blood and saliva, almost in shock.

_ You’ve done it this time. _

Troy and a handful of knights were in the airplane in seemingly record time, and I couldn’t even look up. My entire body shook. This was it, they were going to kick me out of the Brotherhood.

One of the knights wordlessly hefted me off Jackson, while another gathered him up and carried him off. Paladin Troy stayed behind, and I could feel his gaze burning into me.

_ I have to face the consequences of my actions. I have to. _

Summing up the last of my courage, I looked up at Troy, who was now holding his helmet under one arm, seemingly patiently waiting for me. “My quarters. Now.” He said, then put his helmet back on and briskly walked from the airplane, the wings complaining loudly under his metal boots. The other knights followed suit, returning to the training ground as though nothing had happened.

The walk to Troy’s quarters was a miserable slog as I contemplated what I was going to have to do now. The Brotherhood was all I never realized I’d wanted. Without them, my life would have no purpose. And I’d ruined it all, thrown all of it away over something so stupid.

I realized with an ache that Knight Danse would never see me as the ideal soldier, or even a  _ good  _ soldier.

Paladin Troy was waiting for me at a small aluminum table, his armor hung up on the dock behind it, and I trudged into his quarters, where he gestured to a seat across from him. I obediently sat down and held my head high, waiting for whatever he was going to throw at me.

“What’s going on?” Troy said, folding his hands in front of him.

“What?” I said. I hadn’t expected that.

“A month ago, you were trapped in a sinkhole and left for dead by your commanding officers. Ever since then, you’ve been going missing after lunch time and a week ago I find out you’ve been sneaking aboard one of the downed planes and watching my trainings. Now, you’re starting fights with the other squires. So I’ll ask you again.” Troy leaned forward, his expression hardening. “What’s going on?”

I swallowed. “It was Knight--my commanding officers, sir. They cornered me after their reprimand, and they pushed me...I just wanted to be able to fight back. The next time it happened. Sir.”

“And you got your wish. What did Squire Jackson do to you?”

“Um...he just...said some things. That weren’t true.”

“Like  _ what _ ?”

“He said that...um…” I could feel my ears burning again. “That the only reason I was watching the knights train was so that I could...um...watch Knight Danse. Sir,” I said, casting my eyes downward in shame. “It’s not true though. I just wanted to train, like the knights did. I wanted to get stronger.”

Troy pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and his forefinger, and he sighed. “Return to your bunk, please, squire. Understand that I’ll be writing a full reprimand and recommending you to Elder Lyons for further punishment. Dismissed.”

My heart sank and I nodded. I saluted Troy with a feeble “ad victorium, sir,” and slowly left the room.

The barracks were empty when I arrived, naturally. The two knights that shared the barracks with us squires wouldn’t be back from training for hours, and no doubt Harley was with Jackson in the medbay. I approached my bunk with dragging feet, feeling like I was carrying an enormous weight on my back, and only when I reached the edge of my bunk did I allow it to throw me down, collapsing on my bunk in a heap, hoping beyond hope that another sinkhole would open up and swallow me.

_ It happened once, it could happen again,  _ I thought bitterly.

A gentle knock from the door of the barracks caught my attention, and I made a grunt of acknowledgement. I was already in over my head anyway, why bother with pleasantries?

“Excuse me. Maxson, right?”

I shot straight up. “Knight Danse?”

“Paladin Troy asked me to talk to you?”

Was this my punishment? To be embarrassed publicly? To never be able to show my face anywhere at the airport again? “Why?” I said, my tone sharper and a lot more bitter than I had hoped it would be the first time I spoke to him.

Danse’s eyebrows shot up in mild surprise at my attitude, but he continued entering the room and sat on the edge of the bunk across from mine, careful not to disturb the immaculately made-up covers. “I don’t know. Said you looked up to me or something. You’re...you’re the kid Sinclair left in that sinkhole, aren’t you?”

_ He doesn’t even remember me? _ “Yeah,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“Oh, so…” Danse nodded to himself, piecing it all together in his mind. “Okay. So you’re the one they were picking on that night.”

“I don’t get it,” I said with a huff, quickly changing the subject to one that had bothered me for a month. “I don’t understand. They took your fusion core, you could have died, why didn’t that make you mad? I see you joke around with them, how can you stand to be around them?”

Danse’s face lit up with amusement. “I wasn’t going to die, not here at the airport.” He fought to suppress a grin. “They’re just messing around with me. Letting off steam.”

“You fought, though!”

“Everyone gets in fights once in a while. We’re under a lot of pressure.” Danse shrugged. “It happens.”

“But...I--”

“You got in a fight today, I know. And you will get a reprimand for that. There’s nothing I can do about that. But don’t take it so harshly. Squire Jackson’s going to be fine. Just a swollen tongue. His head wound is hardly even remarkable.” Danse looked over his shoulder, seeming to have heard something, but then shook his head and looked back at me. “Here’s the thing, though. Sinclair and I, we know when enough’s enough, and we know where to draw the line. Your brothers and sisters are the only family you have out here in the Commonwealth. You need to be ready to spill your blood for them.”

“I am!” I said, and Danse held a hand up to indicate he wasn’t finished. I fell silent and indicated for him to continue.

“And you need to give them a reason to spill their blood for you. You can’t go around making enemies with your brothers. Do you understand that?”

I nodded.

“We need to make Elder Lyons proud out here. The Cambridge Institute of Technology is rapidly becoming a serious threat in the Commonwealth, worse than the Enclave could ever hope to be. The Brotherhood needs to be a well oiled machine, not a single loose or broken cog, if we’re going to take down the Institute.”

I was too slow to hide my scowl at the mention of Elder Lyons.

“Something wrong?” Danse asked, and I pursed my lips, unsure if I should say. I briefly made eye contact with him--his dark eyes were searching my face, confused, but sincere. I felt nothing but trust for him. He wouldn’t turn on me, I was sure of it.

“I don’t always like how Elder Lyons does things,” I said quietly, my eyes flicking up to his for a moment to gauge his reaction. “I feel like he’s more concerned with the documentation of technology than actually using it or focusing on real threats against the Brotherhood. Like the Institute.”

Danse’s eyes widened, but he glanced around, making sure nobody was listening, before he leaned a hair’s breadth closer to me and said, dropping his voice to a low rumble that made the curious heat in my stomach return, “I’m gonna let you in on a little secret. I don’t always care for the way Lyons does things, either. But he’s getting up there in years. One can only hope that Sarah is an acceptable replacement.”

I was struck dumb. I didn’t actually think he’d  _ agree  _ with me. “Can I ask you something else?”

“Anything,” Danse said, but I could tell he was already wary.

_ Maybe I shouldn’t. _

But, again, Danse’s expression was so genuine, I couldn’t stop myself. “I didn’t...actually get out of that sinkhole by myself.”

“I suspected that might have been the case.”

“Yeah, someone came looking for me. An old synth. A gen II, but...he was sentient. Said he was the only one.”

Disgust read clearly on Danse’s face, but he said nothing, simply allowing me to continue. “I told him to get away from me, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer. He said he couldn’t let me just die down there. Not in good conscience. And...he got me out. He could have...died, or whatever happens to synths. But he didn’t care.”

“So, what’s the point of this?”

“I was just thinking that...maybe Elder Lyons is wrong about synths, too. Maybe they’re not all bad. Not all of them.”

Danse looked suddenly flustered, and almost like I had suggested he chug a pint of ghoul’s blood. “I--uh--I’m not sure I’d go far as to say that. That might be pushing it a little far. That old synth who saved you, I’m...sure he’s as good as they get, but you have to remember, at the end of the day, he’s still a synth. He could have turned on you at any moment.”

“Couldn’t anybody have, though?” I said, cocking my head to one side.

Danse opened his mouth to say something, but snapped it shut and stood up quickly. “Perhaps. I have to get back to training. But...I would probably keep that story to yourself, if I were you. Probably for the best.” He turned on his heel and left, leaving me alone with my thoughts, but one stood out more than the rest.

_ I’m not the only one who disagrees with Elder Lyons. _

 

***

(eight years later)

***

 

The whirring of the vertibird was deafening in my ears, a high chirping that had faded to a heavy thrum, blocking out everything else, as I stared blankly at the floor in front of me, waiting for it to touch down.

_ Danse. A synth. He betrayed us. Betrayed me. How  _ could  _ he? _

The ideal Brotherhood soldier, the poster child, the knight who had risen with ease to the rank of paladin and accepted the title with the tact and grace I’d come to expect from him, the knight who had spilled his own blood countless times, thrown himself into the line of fire for his brothers, all in the name of the Brotherhood...was a synth. An abomination of science, a disgusting hybrid of flesh and machinery, the epitome of all we stood against. And he’d been living under our noses the entire time. Who knew how much data he’d fed back to the Institute? Did  _ he  _ even know?

I rubbed my forehead with the heel of my palm, distraught. How could he have done this to  _ me _ ? I felt white hot anger, coursing with embarrassment, flood through me as I relived all the times I’d invited him to my quarters to deliver his instructions personally, to give him an accolade of some kind, each time thinking  _ this is it. I’m going to tell him the truth. _

I could barely contain my scoff at this thought.  _ Truth is, you’ve fallen for a synth,  _ I thought mockingly.

How many times had he come to my quarters to confide in me since I’d become elder? To trust with me information he’d told nobody else? How many times had I overseen his training, watching the sweat pour from his perfectly toned body, and he’d flash me a wink and a grin when he was sure nobody else was looking? How many times had I seen him walking back to his bunk aboard the Prydwen, dripping wet and wrapped in nothing but a towel, giving me a smirk and a ‘you like what you see?’ sort of look, so quickly I couldn’t even be sure it had been there, before saluting me continuing on his way? More times than I could count.

And it was all for  _ what? _ It was all just one big joke; haha, gotcha, Maxson, I’m actually a traitor, a wolf in sheep’s clothing, and I have been this whole time. I checked for what had to have been the tenth time that my rifle was loaded. Fully loaded, perfect. I snapped the magazine back into place and set the gun across my lap. He’d find out what happened to synths who thought they could pull one over on me.

The vertibird landed with a lurch, and I leapt from it, already halfway down the hill before the rotors had even begun to slow to a stop. I could barely see straight; my focus had narrowed to one singular point, there was only one thought on my mind, all others clouded by an intense rage.

_ Traitor. Make him pay. _

I wasn’t sure what I expected, but for some reason, it wasn’t to see Danse stride out of the listening post, perfectly calm, his hands held in front of him, palms outward. I hesitated, and he stopped. He was waiting to see what I would do.

I wanted to shoot. I didn’t want to hear anything he had to say. It was already hard enough without hearing whatever reasoning Charlie had cooked up to get out of executing him. He didn’t want to say anything, though. He was going to wait for whatever my judgement was, and the longer I stood there, the harder it became to just  _ do  _ it.

“How  _ dare  _ you betray the Brotherhood?” was all I could say, after wrestling internally with myself for almost a full minute.

“I didn’t know,” Danse said evenly, lowering his hands. “This came as a shock to me, too.”

“Then why did you run?” I demanded.

“I panicked. I’m a soldier. My first instinct was to get out and figure things out when I was safe. I realize now that wasn’t in my best interest. But I realized if I had stayed aboard the Prydwen, I’d have been executed on sight.”

The knights on the vertibird had kept their distance, as I’d ordered, but I could hear them pacing around the landing platform. They were getting nervous.

“I suppose  _ she  _ convinced you that you’re not a traitor?” I pointed over his shoulder. The consequences for going against my orders were going to be dire, but I would deal with her later.

“She said you were wrong about me. And she’s right. I’ve never done anything to betray your trust. And I never will. You know that.”

“I  _ did.  _ You’re not the knight I knew.” I tightened my grip around the stock of my rifle. “You’re a crude facsimile of a human being. You--”

“Crude enough that you had no idea!” Danse said, stepping forward, almost losing control for a second. “ _ I  _ didn’t even know! Nobody did! The only reason anyone even found out is because Charlie brought that damn list back from the Institute!”

“You were implanted here by the Institute to tear us apart from the inside, Danse, can’t you see that?!” I brandished my rifle, making broad sweeps with it in the air to emphasize my point. “This is what they  _ do. _ They can’t be allowed to continue, and replace every living being on earth with a machine. Synths are a weed, and we need to exterminate  _ every last one of them,  _ and make it known to the Institute that we will not tolerate their sick attempts to play God!”

“All of them, huh?” Danse said. “Even Nick Valentine?”

My face instantly fell, and I took a step back. Nick Valentine. I hadn’t…

“Will you hunt him down, and kill him too?” Danse pressed. “Is he a threat to the Commonwealth?”

“I--” I was at a complete loss for words. I hadn’t thought of Nick Valentine in years. Had forgotten the old synth entirely.

Danse crossed his arms. “Wasn’t it you that said ‘maybe synths aren’t so bad after all? Not all of them’?”

The stock of my rifle was slick with sweat. What was I supposed to say? “Danse, that was the ramblings of a child, a naive little boy who had only ever been shown kindness by a synth. You can’t possibly expect--”

“Have I ever shown you anything but kindness?” Danse’s tone hardened. “You climbed your way to this position because you believed Elder Lyons was wrong. You believed synths could be given a second chance. Prove that to me now.”

I nearly threw my rifle down in frustration. I wanted to take him up on his offer, badly, but what was I supposed to tell my subordinates? I couldn’t just go lax on this now, not with the Institute bearing down on us and war rapidly approaching our doorstep. I would find myself with a bullet in my back, no doubt, just like Sarah had, and replaced with someone who would have no issue killing Danse and stripping him down to find out exactly what made a synth tick. That wasn’t an option. There wasn’t a way to sweep this one under the rug. As much as I wanted Danse to come back to the Prydwen with me, this whole mess forgotten, there wasn’t anything I could do about it. As long as he was a synth, there was no way he could remain in the Brotherhood.

_ Who’s to say he’s not, though? There’s no telling. Not really.  _ I thought suddenly.  _ Who’s to say the Institute isn’t in the business of publishing falsehoods to spread fear and paranoia? They knew Charlie was coming, or so they claimed, allowing her to steal a fake list would be child’s play for them. _

“Fine,” I said, closing my eyes and pretending as though Danse had stumped me, much to my irritation. “You can come back to the Prydwen. On one condition.”

 

***

 

I locked the door behind me, and Danse stood waiting by the terminal in my quarters, his head held high, hands crossed behind his back, awaiting my orders. “Nobody on this ship can know about your true identity.”

“Understood.”

“The official story is that the Institute put out a fake list to have our best paladin removed. To break apart our ranks right at the brink of war.” I crossed the room and leaned against the rail of my bunk. “And I will not tolerate suspicion among the ranks that that is anything short of the truth, so you will report any whisperings you hear to me.”

“Affirmative.”

“Any questions?”

Danse cocked an eyebrow. “Your  _ best _ paladin, sir?”

“Don’t push your luck.”

He let his stance drop and he whistled through his teeth, searching for the right words. “I just want to say I appreciate the chance you’ve given me, sir.”

“I didn’t say you were dismissed,” I said. There’d never been a better chance than now, and if the day had been any indication, I may not have another opportunity.

“Oh,” Danse said, flustered, and resumed his position.

Desire pooled in my stomach, and I was suddenly grateful for the length of my coat. I wanted him, and he could tell, I was sure of it. He was eyeing me warily, still waiting.

“Do you remember when I first met you?” I asked, unsure of how to proceed.

“Um...I vaguely recall,” he said, his mouth turning down as he tried to recollect. “I remember our conversation about synths, and that’s really about it. I don’t remember why we were talking, though.”

“I’d gotten in a fight,” I said, all shame from that day gone. It had become the first of many, and had eventually culminated in the reputation I still carried.

Danse nodded, and he chuckled. “Oh, right. You’d hit that boy Jackson pretty hard, I remember now.” He looked off into the distance, trying to bring back old memories. “Why  _ were  _ you fighting, anyway?”

_ Shit. _ I hadn’t actually thought he was going to turn over  _ that  _ rock.  _ May as well dive in with both feet. _ “The other squires thought it was inappropriate that I used to watch the knights train. I wanted to learn what you did so I could be strong enough to fight my own battles. And I wanted to watch you.”

“Me?” His voice dripped with disbelief. Not disbelief that I would do something like that, but disbelief that anyone would be interested in anything to do with him. “Why?”

I couldn’t control myself. There was no other way I could think to explain to him. I drew close to him, and he continued to watch me with mild confusion. I was overcome with a sudden need to make it known to him just how strongly I ached for him. How was it possible that he didn’t know just how he made me felt?

Danse remained still as I took the neck tab of his flight suit and dragged him to down to my height. I fumbled in putting my hands on either side of his face, prayed he didn’t feel the sweat through my gloves. He knew. And he wanted it even more than I did. How could  _ I  _ have not known?

My heart was pounding loud enough that I was sure Danse could hear it, but he still waited, absolute panic tearing through him. I could tell he’d never done this, not once, not with anyone. I realized with a thrill of terror that neither had I.

I heard a shift of leather and nylon scraping across one another, and Danse’s arms were suddenly around my waist, pulling me closer. It was now or never. I bridged the short gap between us, having to lift myself onto my toes to reach him, and pressed my lips to his. He melted almost immediately; his stiff, tense body relaxed into mine, holding me even tighter. He kissed me hard, his tongue, hot and heavy, swept against mine while I knotted my fingers into his dark hair, I moaned against his mouth and I could feel his erection against my stomach…

“We should probably stop,” he said, breaking away, and I swallowed hard, breathless, and nodded, taking a step back. Things were about to get exceptionally difficult to explain if anyone had walked in.

“You’re, uh. You’re dismissed, soldier,” I said, wiping the back of my hand over my mouth.

“Ad victorium, sir,” Danse replied, smoothing his hair flat and darting from my quarters.

I collapsed into the chair at my desk as soon as I’d heard the door click shut behind him. “Holy  _ shit,” _ I mumbled.

 

***

 

Danse threw his weight against the door of Maxson’s quarters and put a hand to his rapidly-beating heart. What was  _ that? _

He almost went back, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to demand an explanation or to throw Maxson to his bunk and let his still cooling emotions take charge. Maybe both.


End file.
